


(follow me to get lost) all the time

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Sequence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:43:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5487566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like most things in life, time travel is better with two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1998

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a quick drabble, written to stop an idea I'd had _forever_ from bugging me, but as I've written not one, but two more drabbles for the 'verse, it deserves its own AO3 posting. 
> 
> Title from "If I Die Before You" from the Community soundtrack.

“I need you to go get me ice cream.”

“ _Now?_ ” Phil asks, glancing out the patio door. The bounce house is rocking as tiny bodies throw themselves at its walls. If he tips his head to the left, he can see a balloon being blown up in anticipation of becoming a dog or a tiger or an ostrich.

“Hey,” Melinda says in a tone of voice that has had grown men pissing themselves in terror. “This was your idea.” 

It’s true enough - he always insists on throwing Skye a huge party, no matter how many years running the police have had to shut them down - but the plastic fork poking him in the chest tells him this isn’t about the party. She only prods him like this when she’s reminding him _he_ was the idiot who jumped through a portal of unstable dark matter energy after a superpowered madman, and Melinda was only following him to save his life. So ultimately it’s _his_ fault they’re living 1998 all over again.

Of course, to be fair, _she_ was the one who turned to him and said - with the bad guy beaten and Cal’s angry screams echoing in the hills around them - that they couldn’t leave Skye to the foster care system a second time.

“Hurry up,” she says. “I’ve already started slicing cake and if they go stale-”

“The ice cream will cover it up,” he says lightly and ignores her glare. (It's not even a two on her scale, he's safe.)

It’s probably not a great idea to add what has recently become his standard reply to her complaint about him landing them here, but he does it anyway. He softens it with a kiss to her cheek and a hand on her belly and says it quick - “And _this_ was _your_ idea” - before ducking out of her reach. 

He’s halfway down the front steps when he hears what is definitely a paper plate and a slice of cake smacking the door behind him.

 


	2. 2000

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil is working far from home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted for my 25 days of fic.

“Talk all you want, I ain’t sayin’ nothin’.” Emil’s no fool. These shady government types are gonna throw him in a hole in the ground whether he cooperates or not, he ain’t about to help ‘em out along the way.

The suit across the table looks cool and collected as ever. Bastard’s a pro at this interrogation shit, doesn’t let anything phase him, but so’s Emil. This ain’t the first lockup he’s ever been in and he ain’t scared. The suit hasn’t lain a hand on him, which has him thinking there’s probably a scary suit outside the door, waiting on his cue to come in and start the waterboarding.

“There are people in danger, Mr. Thrasher,” the guy - Coulson, he said is name was - says again. “You can help save them. Just give us the name of your supplier.”

Emil lets his ass scoot forward on the seat of the stiff metal chair so he can relax a little. He makes a dismissive noise and looks at the two-way mirror. It’s dark, like everything else in this room that isn’t directly under the lamp hanging over the table, but he knows there’s somebody on the other side, watchin’ all of this and waitin’ to see what Emil says.

Coulson opens his mouth but his cell phone cuts him off.

“Don’t mind me,” Emil says, lifting his hands in the cuffs.

Coulson frowns but turns sideways in his seat and takes the call. “Yes? … Yes, I thought that might be it. … We’re still-” He glances Emil’s way and Emil shifts uncomfortably- “gathering intel.”

Someone out there’s gotta be fucking with the air because it feels colder in here all of a sudden. Coulson’s smile’s gone now, replaced by something dark and dangerous. Emil sits straighter in his seat.

“Yes. … I think I can, yes. … Understood. Go ahead and put them on.”

Guy’s still just a suit. Nothin’ he can really do that’s worse than anything Emil’s already been through - nothing’ that’ll be worse ’an what’ll happen to him if he talks.

“I hear you’ve been making nuisances of yourselves,” Coulson says, voice soft and deadly, “disobeying orders. Clear and simple ones? … If you can’t follow such basic instructions, I’m afraid I’ll have to give her permission to take the gloves off.”

Emil jumps when a chorus of tinny, high-pitched screams erupt from the cell phone.

Coulson doesn’t seem bothered at all. He stares at the wall until the screams peter out and then asks, “Do we understand each other better now?”

Emil looks to the window again. When is that torturer gonna get in here and get him away from this nut?

 

 

\----------

 

 

On the other side of the world, in a modest, two-story ranch, Melinda smiles at the laughter still in Skye and Roger’s voices when they promise to go to bed as ordered. She takes the phone back from Skye and feigns a jab to tickle her again at the last second, eliciting scattered laughter.

“Brush your teeth, I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Skye says. Roger tries, but at his age it’s more of a yes and a hum.

“And help your brother!” Melinda calls after them. Once they’re up the stairs and out of sight, she dodges into the downstairs office and brings the phone to her ear. “I know you’re busy and you don’t like the domestic stuff clouding your head at work, so I’ll only say that today I went shopping and came home with a _very_ small bag from a _very_ expensive store.”

On the other end of the line, Phil is silent, a sure sign he’s having trouble figuring out how to respond without giving away the true nature of this conversation. Melinda smiles to herself, proud as ever to have rattled Phil’s placid exterior.

“I love you. The kids love you. Stay safe. See you soon.”

“Yes,” Phil says, his tone heavy with promise. “You will.”

The line goes dead and Melinda stays in the office a few seconds longer, giving herself a little more time before she has to face the mess Skye and Roger have doubtless made of the bathroom. She stares at the dark phone. Phil’s okay. He’s alive. He’ll be home soon.

 

 

\----------

 

 

Back in the dark interrogation room, Phil’s having some trouble keeping his smile under wraps between Melinda’s promise and Thrasher’s sudden change of heart. With the intel he’s eagerly spilling after that phone call, Phil just might make it home before the next bedtime.

 


	3. 2001

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt “you can’t always fix the things you break.”

“You can’t always fix the things you break,” he says, sounding wistful.

Melinda leans against the desk, staring at the too-young face in the photos. “You didn’t break him.” She pulls the folder out of his hands to close it. “Hell, I’m not even sure anyone ever did. He might’ve been born this way.”

Phil tips his head back to frown at her. “You don’t believe that.”

She’s not sure she doesn’t but that isn’t what he wants to hear. “What happens if you fail? What if he turns out the same?” She leans close to whisper, “What if his loyalties end up in the same place?”

That gets him. If Phil takes Grant Ward under his wing and he still ends up a murdering psychopath, that’s one thing. If he still ends up a _HYDRA_ agent? That’s another.

He leans back in his chair, sighs while he thinks it over. Melinda takes his hand. The last time they saw Ward - ten years ago and seventeen years in the future - he was insane. He turned Agent Palamas into a monster, brainwashed Bakshi, tortured Bobbi, and nearly killed Hunter. He’d murdered countless good, decent people over the course of his career. He betrayed their team and everything they believed in.

But Phil’s always been about saving people. That’s why he became an agent, why he was put on the Avengers Initiative, why he brought Ward onto the team in the first place.

“This is why we’re here, isn’t it?” Phil asks. He’s staring at the photo of Skye he keeps on his desk. Next to it is the one of Roger that she gave him for Christmas last year. “To make things better?” 

“We came here to save her. After that …” She shakes her head. Neither of them really had any thoughts after that when they started on this road.

He smiles at her. “But what’s the point if we’re not making things better?”

Melinda opens the folder. This Ward is just a kid. An angry, hurt kid who’s a few months away from burning down his family home. 

“All right. Tell me the plan.”


	4. 2008

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shineyma prompted _Be good -- or if you can’t be good, don’t get caught, that’s what I always say_ for the first sentence meme.
> 
> Posted for my 25 days of fic.

“Be good -- or if you can’t be good, don’t get caught, that’s what I always say,” Stark says with a proud grin.

“Really?” Phil asks. “I thought you enjoyed getting caught.”

Stark’s face falls at the sight of him and he gestures across his desk to the woman sitting ramrod straight in front of him. “I’m in a _meeting_.”

Potts gracefully rounds Phil to place a pile of papers on Stark’s desk. “And I’m sure you’ve had plenty of fun terrifying the poor intern, sir, but if you want her to keep doing work worthy of awards, you should probably let her get back to it.”

“Oh, just cancel my two o’clock.”

Potts purses her lips. _Phil_ is his two o’clock and it’s nearly two-fifteen.

“Molly and I were about to get into it about Star Wars: are the prequels abominations or over-judged pieces of art?” He’s mock-serious, trying to draw Molly out, but her stiff posture never lessens. “Look at that,” Stark says to Phil. “You scared my intern. And after she found that data leak and everything.” He waves the poor girl away. “Fine, go find me more holes to plug.”

Phil shakes his head. No matter how many times - or how many lifetimes - he deals with Stark, it’s always an adventure.

Molly still seems a little shell-shocked for whatever reason and Phil’s nearly level with her by the time she stands. It’s elegant, really would come off as nerves except once she’s standing and Phil can see more of her than just the back of her head, he knows her discomfort has nothing to do with Stark.

She turns away from him, carefully timing it so he’ll completely miss seeing her face (not that he needs to at this point). His hand snaps out and catches her arm, holding her on the other side of the chair.

Skye turns to him with wide eyes. “Hi?”

“Pepper,” Stark says calmly, “a SHIELD agent is manhandling my employee. Get legal on the phone, I wanna sue.”

Phil ignores him and, with his free hand, pulls his phone from his pocket and dials a number he knows by heart, the same one he’s dialed every morning for the past month and a half. After one ring the call is picked up and a chipper voice comes out of the speakers. “Pacific Express! Best egg rolls in Oregon! Would you like to make an order for pick-up?”

“No,” Phil says. “I was wondering about the status of my order. SC-2639.”

“Ah, very good, sir. That was last marked as landing Paris at two-forty local time. Will there be anything else today?”

“No, that’s all.” Phil pockets his phone and raises an eyebrow.

“I can explain!” Skye says.

“Why your passport landed in Paris this morning without you? Because I’d like to know that too. I suppose it’s safe to say you were never in Brazil or Australia either?”

“ _I’d_ like to know why SHIELD is tracking my intern,” Stark mutters.

“Not now!” Phil snaps, never taking his eyes off Skye. Under other circumstances, he’d be proud of ruffling Stark's feathers - the man actually jumps in his chair - but this is serious.

Skye jerks in his grip, startled, and he lets her go. He’s having some trouble keeping his cool. He thought she was in _Paris_. He doesn’t like not knowing where his kids are and that he didn’t know he didn’t know until he _did_ know isn’t making it better.

He drops his hand to his side. “What are you doing here?” he asks softly.

“You said I needed real world experience before I could get into the Academy - but then you never let me have any! So…” She gestures towards the door.

Phil sighs. “I didn’t mean go out and spy on the world’s top tech company without a safety net. You were supposed to step up your training at home, maybe knock me on my ass one of these days.”

She scoffs, still bitter about the day she got too big for him to keep letting her win their play matches. The memory of her running up to him, asking to fight him because she wanted so badly to be like Melinda, warms his heart, but not enough that he’s gonna let her off the hook for this one.

He tips his head towards the door. “You’re done. We’ll talk in the car and, after, you’ll call your mother and tell her you lied.”

Skye’s face pales. “ _No._ Pleasepleaseplease,” she begs, clasping her hands together. “I’ll do anything! I- I’ll let you put some sort of weird, SHIELD monitoring bracelet on me! I’ll learn a new language! I’ll _clean Roger’s room_! Please just don’t make me tell Mom!”

That is a _very_ tempting offer. Putting a high-tech tracker on his teenage daughter would be a weight off his mind and Roger’s room _is_ a disaster zone, but he can always use those as added punishments. (The Roger thing, at least. May refuses to let him tag Skye, no matter how practical his arguments.)

“Amador’s waiting outside the door,” he says. “Tell her I said ‘erstwhile.’”

“Really?” Skye mutters while she slumps out. “Today’s codeword is from a Jane Austen novel?”

Once she’s gone, Phil focuses back on Stark and Potts. Their positions have changed since he last paid them any mind. Potts is seated in Stark’s chair, her arms crossed angrily and her mouth held firmly closed by Stark’s palm. The man is watching Phil gleefully.

“ _You_ ,” he asks after a few seconds, “have a _kid_?”

Phil sighs. And this was supposed to be such a simple meeting.

 


	5. 1989-2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one asked me to do the one sentence fics (v2) meme for this fic but I was suddenly inspired. (It'll make sense once you scroll down, promise.) 
> 
> Fics/sentences are in chronological order - or as close to it as is possible with a time travel fic.

**Before**

Their family, the one they built together on the Bus, is broken and damaged - Ward’s gone off the rails, Simmons is missing, Fitz is barely holding it together, Skye’s in mourning, and that’s not even _touching_ on Phil or Melinda’s issues - and now some Inhuman with a martyr complex has taken Raina’s prophecies to heart in a kill-Skye kind of way; there’s no way they’re letting that happen.

 

**Greed**

Rain’s soaking all three of them to the bone, Sites is dead in that ravine (taking their only way back to the future with him), and Cal’s screaming for his daughter in between claps of thunder; they should be thinking about how they’re gonna spend the next thirty years pretending they don’t know what’s about to happen next, but looking into Skye’s innocent, little face, all Melinda can say is “don’t say it” because she’s not letting this girl go, not ever.

 

**Peace**

Fury’s still pissed - not that they broke frat regs, but that they’re lying and pretending they did and not telling him what’s really going on - so only half their stuff makes it to the house on move-in day and they end up sleeping on the floor with Skye between them; it’s the best sleep either of them has had in at least a decade.

 

**Pretend**

They’ve both been doing espionage work long enough to know from the start it’s coming; that might be why they spend so long convincing themselves they’re not there yet, not ready to be the couple everyone thinks they are.

 

**Passion**

If she’d worried it was gonna be awkward after, she shouldn’t have; they’re still panting and her body’s still buzzing when he asks, “Why weren’t we doing that the first time around?” and she can’t help but laugh.

 

**Envy**

Melinda keeps a box of photos in the closet, doubles of every single one - the good, the pointless, the blurry - that Phil’s taken of Skye over the years in hopes that when the day comes, assuming it goes better than last time, she’ll be able to give them to Jiaying and maybe ease some tiny measure of her suffering.

 

**Regret**

“We don’t have to go,” Phil says when the invitation arrives, all gold embossing and elegant script, and she kisses him in thanks only once - half because they both know they have to go, there’s no reason here and now that they shouldn’t, and half because she can’t kiss him the way she’d really like, not while her mind’s on the man who used to be and never was her husband.

 

**Trip**

There’s no warning - one minute Phil is holding her hand, trying to keep steady while being introduced to a woman he last saw when she sobbed in his arms and the next a nine year-old rocket is barreling past, circling back around to introduce himself at his mother’s request - and it’s up to Melinda to keep her voice level and her tears in check as she shakes his very sold, very flesh and blood hand.

 

**Beauty**

She’s more tired than she’s ever been in her life - in _either_ life - and doesn’t believe a word Phil says about how good she supposedly looks (she’s gross and sweaty and doesn’t even want the kiss he presses to her temple as he says it; he’s lying out his ass) but she’s in wholehearted agreement with the awed silence that falls over him when the nurses lay Roger in her arms.

 

**Dreaming**

Roger’s not even two yet when Melinda’s nightmares come back, the ones that replay the security footage of Simmons being pulled into that godawful rock over and over and _over_ and all Melinda can do is stand there while Simmons begs and pleads and screams; Sif’s unspoken words on destiny still echoing in her head, she sets out to find the monolith and ends up with a fresh-faced young astronaut tied up in the basement.

 

**Difficulty**

“I’m _handling_ it,” Melinda says lowly as Skye skips out of the room to fix her hair; much as he wants to save Ward, it’s taking years off Phil’s life that his teenage daughter has got a crush on him.

 

**Reason**

Fitz’s mother doesn’t want him to go - for mostly selfish reasons, she acknowledges, but she’s got some perfectly sensible misgivings that she lays out succinctly and logically (she’s not anywhere near his level, but it’s not hard to see where Fitz gets his rational mind from) - and, looking at him work in his closet lab, hearing him talk without even a hint of a stutter, it’s hard to argue with her.

 

**Pride**

She’s in the middle of handing Phil a dripping wet dish with Skye helping Roger with his history at the kitchen table behind them when she suddenly realizes no one’s called her the Cavalry in nearly twenty years - and no one ever will again.

 

**Weather**

Skye’d never say (because she knows there’s a scary list for those sorts of people) but she’s half-sure her Dad’s secretly psychic - like how he _refused_ to let her go to the Stark Expo and then it all blew up, meanwhile the boring road trip he dragged her and Mom and Roger on ended up having an _actual norse god_ show up; if he’s not psychic, he’s _something_.

 

**After**

It’s not quite the way it was before - the Avengers tend to hang around a lot more and no one’s turned out to be secretly evil as yet and there are definitely some new faces - but it’s still a family, hard won and messy and absolutely theirs.

 


End file.
